


Fool's Gold

by orphan_account



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Darling Pan - Freeform, F/M, Pirates, Tumblr, prompts, random OC who bears no relevance, wendy/peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy, in a bid to impress the Lost Boys and be accepted as one of their own, antagonises the pirates. Naturally, this causes a spot of trouble...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Gold

**Author's Note:**

> calie1003 asked: Oh prompts! 'Wendy antagonizes Hook and the pirates with bad results and Peter, slightly annoyed and bit impressed, comes to her rescue."

Wendy scrambles up onto the tall rock that overlooks the small lagoon, north side of the island. It’s a rough climb; almost thirteen feet of sheer cliff-face, scaled using her arms and legs. Her palms are sore, but she wipes them on her knees to get rid of the stinging sensation, and pushes on. She stands, eyes locking onto the cluster of pirates whose boots are dug into the gleaming sand. She’s breathing hard, both with exertion and anticipation, her white gown billowing in the wind. Hook’s coat, whipping out behind him like a dragon’s tail, is charcoal-black against the pale stretch of beach, sternness clinging to what she can see of his expression.

His crew is circled round him, staring, as he does, out to where their ship has drifted away from the shore. The anchor has been dislodged from the sand underneath the waves, and the wind has sailed it out to sea. It is but a speck upon the horizon, now, creamy sails against the blue-grey of the sky. Their tiny rowboat, which they would normally use to get out to the ship, is currently being torn apart by the mermaids Wendy bribed using the precious jewels she found in the caves.

She grins, clawing a hand through her messy hair. The mermaids kept up their end of the deal- it is time to make herself known. Excitement floods her veins; if she does this, if she succeeds, the Lost Boys will be _so jealous-_ nobody except Peter has managed to pull anything like this off. She’ll be revered, worshipped, at least until the next challenge comes along. They won’t think of her as a coward any longer.

“ _Captain Hook!_ ” she bellows, hands cupped round her mouth.

The man turns sharply, eyes searching the beach until coming to a rest upon her figure. He mutters something under his breath, probably a curse, and steps forward. She is only a few metres away, no matter how high up, and his voice reaches her easily. “Lass,” he says, as way of greeting, his tone rather tired.

Wendy fights a frown. He’s supposed to be _angry,_ not… not _bored._ He’s supposed to be raving and ranting, face red and spittle flying every which way like Peter can make him do. She wants him shouting and chasing, not calm and collected. She doesn’t let her face fall, however- he needs to think her unconcerned with whatever trouble she has caused him. “Are you well, sir?” she asks, courteous.

“Ah,” he replies, gesturing behind him, “I seem to be experiencing a few difficulties with my ship.”

She pretends to squint towards the sea. “Yes,” she surmises, “it appears to have shrunk.”

A snort of laughter from one of the younger pirates- Alfred? Alf?- earns a scathing look and an elbow to the gut from Hook. “Amusing!” he crows, offering a tense smile. “ _Very_ funny, lass.”

Wendy steps off her perch, landing seamlessly on the sand below with only the slightest of wobbles. She has observed Peter in antagonising the pirates half a million times, and knows that theatrics are essential in getting their attention. She has practised this many, many times, and has planned the whole thing down to the last detail.

She did not, however, forestall Hook’s rather patronising indifference. “Would you like it back?” she inquires, thinking quickly. She tilts her head, creases her brow and widens her eyes; schooling her features into a mask of utter innocence and naivety.

“No, lass,” he replies, voice gruff with amusement, “I’ll be sailin’ the bloody seas on my hat.”

His crew guffaws at this, chortling like madmen, and Wendy’s lips curl into a small, cold smile. She steps towards him until she is only centimetres away, her eyes wide as ever but flinty and dark. She will not be mocked. “You might have to, _Captain_ , if you continue being insolent.” Her tone is sickly sweet.

The threat is evident. Hook laughs in her face, as she expected him to, but a wary sort of realisation flickers across his expression as he does so. “Sorry, lass. I’ll behave.”

“You’d better.” She smiles again, this time genuinely, and steps back. “The ship will be returned to you-”

“Returned?” the same youth who laughed at her jape asks. “You mean… _you_ took ’er?”

“’Course not, boy,” Hook chortles, “the mermaids did it.”

“Who do you think told them to?” Wendy says, and at his disbelieving look tells him, “I’ve been living next to Peter for half a century, sir. Let it not be said I have learned nothing in that time.”

“Mermaids answer to no-one, lass.”

“Mermaids do not answer to _boys,_ perhaps.” She replies coolly, but it is all bravado. Her gender makes no difference to the sea-wenches, only that she does not respond to their siren’s call. It is the jewels she brings them that they want.

Wendy had arranged them on the warm rocks so that they glinted, red and blue and green, in the sun. It only took moments for the beautiful half-fish to surface, their pale eyes wide and curious. _I have gifts,_ she’d told them, _but I’d like you to help me with something first._

Hook, rather than shrinking at the mention of her influence over the wicked things, only smiles. “What d’you want?”

She clears her throat, thinking quickly. “Sword-fighting lessons.” She decides.

He chuckles. “You want to be a pirate, lass?” the mockery is edging back into his tone.

“A pirate?” she asks, incredulously. “Why, of course not. If I wanted _that_ I’d have asked for lessons on drunkenness and hair-brained schemes.”

The barb is sharp, and sinks into his skin. “You’ve a smart mouth on you, lass. I’d watch it.”

Hook’s gaze is _finally_ what she’d been expecting, what she sees when Peter torments him; it is dark and angry, waves slapping against the sides of a ship, water eroding rock. Steadfast, persistent, and not likely to dissipate in the near future. He stands tall, her head only coming up to mid-chest, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other clenched by his side. His crew watches him warily, recognising the set of his stance as one to be cautious of.

Wendy, who is, to be perfectly honest, sick to death of tip-toeing around boys with delusions of grandeur, does not care one jot.

“Perhaps I should add ‘stating the obvious’ and ‘making idle threats’ to my class schedule.” She smirks, deadpan.

His blade is at her throat before she has time to react, his expression thunderous. “I _might_ be a drunken, hair-brained man who states the bleedin’ obvious every given opportunity,” he infers, voice low and dangerous, “but no threats that come from my mouth are _idle_ , lass.”

The sword cuts in to the skin of her neck, and she swallows thickly, but says nothing.

“I’d make you walk the plank, but…” he tilts his head, gives a mock-sheepish smile. “I think I’ll just throw you to the sirens from here, hm?”

Panic widens her eyes and tears desperation from her throat. “No!” she snaps, before she can stop herself.

“Not to worry, lass, they’ll answer to a girl… probably.” With only a nod of his head, Hook commands two of his pirates to take a hold of her by the arms, and turns towards the ocean again.

The blade is gone, but the bite of their fingernails is far worse. They drag her to the edge of the shore as she shrieks and kicks out, but their hold does not relent. “Let go!” she commands. “Unhand me you- you _bastards!_ ”

The ocean is cold and sharp as they wade into it, her dress quickly becoming water-logged and clinging to the outline of her legs. She struggles frantically as three pretty heads break the surface, rising to reveal bare shoulders and angelic faces. They smile, revealing teeth sharpened to a point, the hunger in their gazes chipping away at childlike curiosity until it is nothing but jagged bloodthirst. “ _Please_ ,” she whimpers.

“Sorry, girlie.” Alfred says in her ear. “Captain’s orders.”

Wendy kicks him in the shins. “Don’t apologise!” she seethes. “Don’t you _dare-_ ”

Her ranting is cut off when she is thrown, without ceremony, into the path of a churning wave. She goes under, salty liquid filling her mouth and nose, a wall of water slamming into her body. She clamps her mouth shut automatically, but keeps her eyes open, and tries to claw her way to the surface but she’s forgotten which way is up, and her head whacks into sand instead of clean, fresh air.

Head over heels she falls, twisting, and she didn’t have the chance to take a breath, she was mid-sentence, her lungs are _burning_ and dimly she can see a long, thin creature swimming towards her with its arms outstretched and-

Something grabs her by the waist. She screams, fights it, but the hold is strong and then cold wind is on her cheeks and she’s _gasping,_ thirstily gulping down sweet, wonderful lungfuls of oxygen.

“’Lo, Darling.” A familiar voice says, a thin veil of calm stretching over heinous fury.

Peter holds her close in chest-deep water, one arm tight around her shoulders while the other cups her cheek. He strokes his thumb over the skin there as she shudders and coughs against him, clutching at his wet clothes.

“H-hullo, Peter,” she chokes out, looking up at him.

His eyes are fervent with rage, but it is not directed at her. “You’re alright.” He tells her, then starts to tug her back to land.

Wendy turns just as the mermaids slink away, expressions cowed. The presence of the Pan never fails to make them meek and afraid.

When the water only laps at their knees, he sweeps her into his arms, bridal-style. She winds her arms round his neck and presses her face to it, realising he’s doing it so the pirates don’t have the satisfaction of seeing her body through the clinging lines of her wet gown rather than any chivalrous intent. He is possessive, after all, and if _he_ can’t see her naked then Hook cannot catch even a glimpse of her girlish form.

The Captain looks relaxed, if a bit bemused, when they approach. “I thought they wouldn’t bother with you, lass. It was meant to scare, nothing more.” He says, eyebrow raised.

Peter’s voice is harsh and cruel. “Haven’t you learnt from previous encounters with the mermaids, Killian? They bother with anyone, so long as it’s flesh and blood.”

“They took my ship at her request,” Hook replies, nodding at Wendy, “I presumed they were allies, of sorts.”

The boy king scoffs. “Since when do mermaids ally with anything but their own?” When the man doesn’t answer, he adds, “Touch her again, and you’ll have a chance to find that out for yourself.”

He sets off, and Wendy calls haughtily to Hook over his shoulder: “They’ll return the ship to you at sunrise, not that you deserve it!”

The Captain merely inclines his head at her, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Thanks, love.”

Peter grumbles in the back of his throat. He smells like sea water and the sticky sap that comes from the trees in Neverland. Like a boy, she supposes.

They’re at the edge of the forest, out of sight, when he sets her down. She moves to start walking but he grasps her elbow, none-too-gently (she suspects he doesn’t know how to touch without scarring, only ever doing it accidentally).

“Is that true, what Killian said?” he asks, staring down at her.

“Not… not exactly,” she mumbles, “I bribed them with jewels.”

To her surprise, he laughs- not a cruel, mocking chuckle but an actual _guffaw,_ head thrown back and all. “You bribed mermaids?” he asks, grinning.

“Yes. It’s not _funny,_ Peter.”

“It is.” He insists, and slides his grip down her arm to tangle her fingers with his own. “Bribed mermaids… stole Killian’s ship… that’s quite good, Wendy-bird.”

 “I could have been eaten.” She reminds him testily, but doesn’t let go of his hand.

Peter laughs again, carefree. “I’d have saved you. Bribing… hm.” He murmurs, tugging her along. “I like that.”


End file.
